


Rush

by Cerinh (AnnieAmazing)



Category: Dir en grey
Genre: Epiphany, Fanservice, Idol Worship, Kissing, M/M, POV First Person, Poetic (sort of), Public Display of Affection, Sexual Tension, co-dependancy, stage fright
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:06:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22139791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnieAmazing/pseuds/Cerinh
Summary: As the rush of being on stage grips Die and something unexpected happens, he gains insight into a part of himself he never quite understood.
Relationships: Die/Kaoru (Dir en grey), Die/Kyo (Dir en grey)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Rush

**Author's Note:**

> New Year, new fic. It's not the story I wanted to write, in fact, this one has been sitting unfinished in my archive for half a year or longer, but inspiration kicked me in the mouth. My muse is back and I decided to grab her by the left nipple and just create. Felt glorious, even when the outcome is not quite what I've been expecting. But then, I guess, no one really expects this kind of thing from me, so there.
> 
> This isn't like my other works, not by any stretch of the imagination, not only because I haven't self-beta'ed it twenty times before posting. So it's basically raw material, not really reviewed or sorted out, it's sort of poetic, I think, and definitely very (purposefully) vague in places. It was an experiment, to try out a style of writing which I've always wanted to use but never quite felt like I could pull off. Some of the sentences are very long and may even be confusing. This was done on purpose. Let me know what you think, if you liked it or not and if I should write in this style more often.
> 
> Here's to hoping my muse will stick around for a while so I can hit y'all with the updates to the stories you actually want to read, instead of this crap.
> 
> Happy New Year, bitches. I love all of you.

I feel a rush of excitement as I hear the first high-pitched screams when Shinya walks out onto the stage. My heart rate accelerates and I have to close my eyes against the sudden dizziness that threatens to overcome me at the knowledge that I’m next up to go out there. Even after all this time it still unsettles me, playing in front of so many people, showing them everything I am, offering them my very heart -- even when to them, it’s just a glimpse they get of me. They couldn’t possibly know how much of myself is truly hidden between the lines, resonates on the air with every note.

There suddenly is a pair of strong, warm hands on my tense shoulders, squeezing lightly, thumbs running over the outline of my shoulder blades. It grounds me, reassures me, and I can’t help the tiny smile claiming my lips. Kaoru always seems to know what I need, when I need it. My eyes flutter open and I glance back at my fellow guitarist over my shoulder. He returns the look and nods once, almost imperceptibly. I turn my gaze back around, facing forward and take a deep breath that I hold in as I step out onto the stage.

The screams of the fans are almost deafening; from various directions I can hear my name being called in a desperate attempt to catch my attention. I don’t acknowledge them for now. Instead, I walk over to my side of the stage and grab for my instrument with shaking fingers. Only once I have my guitar safely strapped over my shoulder I release the breath I’ve been holding. My back is still to the crowd and I glance to the left, to where Toshiya and Kaoru are now standing, putting on their instruments. Toshiya catches my gaze and winks at me. I grin in return and then he raises a finger to his lips, kisses it and points at me. My grin widens with the increase of volume of the crowd at the action and I almost feel like myself again as I finally turn around to face our fans.

Then, Kyo finally takes the stage. In a few long, confident strides he’s in the middle and picks up his microphone, then jumps on his platform. His arms open, he stretches them out to the ceiling, leans back slightly and the fans scream. He bathes in the attention and I can actually see the pleasant shudder shaking his body.

It’s then that I hear the first melodic sounds being coaxed from Kaoru’s guitar and the rhythm of Shinya’s drumming. I’m late to join in, too caught up in my own mind and the things happening around me, and it embarrasses me a little, though I doubt anyone else noticed. The crowd certainly doesn’t seem to mind, their screams only increasing in volume as we jump right into our first song of the night. My fingers glide over the frets, my mind hazy as the music plucks at my heartstrings. Even after all this time it still excites me, coaxing these sounds from my precious guitar in front of so many people. My feelings pour out into the movements of my fingers, it feels like my very heart is bleeding out over my hands and right into our music.

Six songs into the concert I first notice it. There is a certain energy permeating the air tonight, something that differs from our usual performance during this tour, and when I look to the right and spot Kaoru on the platform in the center of the stage, Kyo half sitting on, half standing next to it with his hand reaching out for Kaoru, it finally becomes clear to me. There is an innocent sort of tension in the way Kyo lets his hand brush over Kaoru’s hip and down his leg, the action gentle, almost reverent and yet so very sexually charged that for a moment I have to hold my breath to keep my body’s immediate reaction under wraps. Kaoru grins down at Kyo and then glances at me, the look in his deep eyes challenging, beckoning me into a game we’ve played on many occasions, in many different places of the world. _Come and get me._

My legs move before I’m even fully aware of the fact and moments later I’m all but skipping across the small space. I only stop once I’m standing next to Kyo, who immediately leans into my side. His mic changes hands and his now free one comes around me, pulls my body even closer against his considerably smaller, but well-toned one. I’m not sure if it’s his heartbeat, my own, or just the bass that I feel pulsing through me, but I don’t really care either way. I simply fall into the feeling, into the beat and for the first time tonight, I let myself just… be.

Kyo’s hand comes up to comb through my hair, fingers tangling in it; I’m not sure if it’s on accident or purpose, but he pulls and my head falls forward, my forehead colliding with the underside of his toned arm. I close my eyes, his tangy scent coming to invade my already hazy mind but I resist. I pull my head back up and twist my body around, now showing Kyo my back. It forces him to release his grip on my hair, I feel his hand running over my neck, down between my shoulders, further, deeper, over the small of my back and then it is gone. But not for long. Within the space of two heartbeats, his hand slaps my thigh, hard enough that I think it might leave an angry print behind. The crowd screams in ecstasy. He slaps me again, point blank on my ass this time, but instead of his hand retreating I can feel the sensation of blunt nails digging into my skin, a sharp sting even through the material of my leather shorts, fishnet tights and underwear.

My mouth falls open and my head back, my hair tickles down my back, my eyes close automatically and I let the gasp that falls from my lips go for the crowd to see. They scream louder if that’s even possible. I bite my lower lip as I once more feel Kyo tugging on my hair, then gasp again at the next, slightly stronger pull. A groan leaves me that I almost can’t hear myself, so I feel safe no one else can, either, as Kyo swats my rear end one more time and lets go of me. It feels like I’m losing something, definitely lost myself in the sensations, got too deep into it; I think, for a split second, that my legs are going to give out under me. But they aren’t and when I finally realise this, I turn to the crowd with what I hope is a seductive grin.

Kyo is gone, he’s standing near Toshiya now, singing his heart out almost as though he’s singing to Toshiya alone, and Kaoru’s still on the platform in the middle of the stage, just a step and a half away from me. I look to the right and up to him and catch his gaze; he’s studying me. To the crowd it must look like he’s staring at his hands, watching what they’re doing with the strings, but I have a different point of view, and even as I let my head fall forward to hide my amused-embarrassed grin (and the faint glow of a blush that I’m sure is there, because my heart is beating in time with Shinya’s drumming now, three skips at a time, so fast and hard it feels like it’s preventing me from breathing evenly) behind my hair, I feel the push and pull of excitement rushing through me, tingling in my veins and finally settling deep in my core. My nerves are on edge, a tremor in my fingers.

The fans cheer and I can only assume it’s for something Kyo and Toshiya are doing; I glance down at my fingers to make sure I don’t fuck up this next part, the bridge into my solo. Truthfully, I wouldn’t fuck it up, I know this, I can play it in my sleep -- have, in fact, played it in my sleep before, Toshiya filmed me; a zoom-in on my fingers as they moved over invisible strings, plucking, holding, plucking again and then sliding down the frets.

But when I start getting into my solo, I divert from following its pattern only a heartbeat into it for one single, completely breathtaking reason. Awestruck, I stare up at Kaoru, who’s still on Kyo’s damn platform, and my fingers curl around the neck of my guitar, press down gently on the vibrating string, the high E, to still it, and then I almost want to cry. Because he’s taken it, Kaoru, standing there, high above me, my _idol,_ is playing my solo and I know I should be angry at him for taking this away from me, but I’m not. Instead, I’m in a state of shocked awe, just staring, my neck beginning to hurt where it bends back and my mouth slightly open, as _he plays my solo._ And he plays it so beautifully, the pitch slightly off since his guitar is tuned to different high notes, but the part, at least to my ears, sounds all the better for it.

It doesn’t take very long, it’s not an extravagant or drawn out solo, just a short skip in the song, really, and Kaoru smoothly, flawlessly, glides into the bridge to the next part. I join back in after I gathered my wits about me again, my gaze once more falling down to my fingers, careful and conscious of what I’m doing and so very much unwilling to fuck anything up, because I know that _he will hear_ and _I don’t want to disappoint him._ Not ever, but especially not after this display. This honour. He took my part and he made it something else, yet the same and it feels like through this, he’s connected himself to me even more than he has ever been before that, come closer than I have ever hoped him to get. For the first time in my life I feel like he -- or more aptly, his incomprehensible measure of talent -- isn’t just a far-off dream, something that I someday want to become or acquire, but instead a tangible presence that I only have to reach out for and touch and _take control over._

I always wanted to be Kaoru, not _like_ him, no, I’d have loved to break him open and climb into his skin; from the moment we first met and I heard him play -- rough, a hard edge to the sound back then, a sound that has softened and changed in pitch over the years, that grew and adapted but has always been unique and beautiful and so very him. For a while I hated him for it. Then, I depended on it. I still do. Nothing I ever do happens without his approval, his consent, or his praise. But after this; Kaoru’s blatant, _public_ display of affection, _affection just for me,_ of him playing my solo, something I wrote for _myself_ because I _felt_ it -- it’s as though he’s telling me he understands, he respects and, beyond that, he loves. It’s like he’s bowing to me in a sense, my _idol,_ the man I’ve looked up to for over twenty years; he’s finally _noticed_ me.

Of course, he has noticed me before that. He has praised me before that. He has respected me before that. But never, not once in my life, have I felt so uplifted and so honoured by anything before. Or so utterly blissed out over.

The next time I look up is when the song is over. My gaze rises to meet Kaoru’s, who’s sitting on the edge of the platform now, smiling at me. I smile back. The lighting changes and I’m about to turn away to go back to my spot, after all, we will be starting into the next song after everyone has had a drink of water. Besides, I need to glance at my set list, we’ve mixed it up a little during the last couple of shows and I’m not entirely sure which song comes next.

But something in the way Kaoru looks at me stops me from leaving this spot, there on the very edge of the stage, and I stare back, captured, _enraptured,_ by his gaze. There is concern in his eyes that I can’t fathom why it’s there, where it’s coming from. It’s then that he raises his right hand, flicks his pick into the crowd, not following its path, uncaring of where it lands; instead, he reaches out to me, both with his fingers and with his eyes. His thumb runs over my cheek and only now I feel a wetness there and it might simply be sweat, but the way he strokes it away and rubs soothingly over my skin tells me it’s not. I didn’t even realise I started crying, I was so soaked up in the moment, in my thoughts and then, just like that, I feel myself leaning into his touch slightly, see the crease in his brow softening, his expression of gentle concern morphing into something I can’t quite read, can’t quite comprehend and it’s like every cell in my body is suddenly screaming out its, _my,_ absolute need for him, for this man I’ve known half my life and never quite felt like I could reach. But then and there I finally see clearly. Co-dependant or not, straight or not, idol-brother-friend or not… none of that matters. I’m _his._ I’ve been his all along and it took me over two decades to learn that fact.

Everything that happens then is blurry, like I’m watching myself from somewhere above me, I can see him and myself and I’m running on instinct alone, can’t even hear the screams of the crowd or anything else outside of this, outside of _us,_ and even as I’m doing it I can’t quite believe that I am, but I do, I lean into him, forward, a little down and his hand is suddenly in the back of my neck and his lips feel divine on mine and I don’t think I can breathe and maybe I’ve died and gone to heaven.

Slowly, he pulls away from me and the deafening noise of the crowd catches up to my ears and my heart feels like it’s only now beginning to beat again and my breath comes out in a gasp and we turn away from each other with matching grins on our lips, go back to our resident spots on the stage. I grab for my bottle of water, gulp down half of it, a giddiness inside of me, butterflies fluttering through my veins, making my skin tingle, making my fingers restless; I’m itching to pluck on my strings, make some form of noise, give recognition to what just transpired, even when the fans already did that for me.

Kyo makes a quip about the kiss, something about it being unexpected and he thought we had outgrown things like this or some such, making the crowd laugh, giving further recognition, keeping it from fading into the back of my mind, not that I think that it _could,_ ever; and I feel the grin on my own lips, a mile wide, still not quite believing it was real, that it really happened, but I can still taste Kaoru when I run my tongue across my bottom lip and so I know, _I know,_ it’s real. More than that, it’s always _been_ real.

Shinya starts us into the next song, Kyo screams and I turn back to face the crowd, getting right back into it, even when for a short moment I didn’t think I could. But music is second nature to me, it’s what I love, a part of me, and so it just flows out of me automatically, sometimes unbidden, sometimes in sleep, and also, like now, exactly when it’s supposed to.

The notes fly by me, the rest of the set list a blur, a rush and before long we’re nearing the end and then, suddenly, I look up and it’s almost as though I could reach out and touch the sounds I’m coaxing from my strings and I think to myself that maybe this is some sort of musical trance, one of those Kyo has once told me he induces in himself from time to time, and the notes morph into colours and shapes and then there’s feeling, so much of it, the blurry mess of faces in front of me becomes an ocean of emotion and I drown in it willingly, their outstretched hands and their beckoning voices singing to me, fading in and out, my whole being feeling light to a point where I’m sure I could fly if I just gave myself a little push off the ground with the balls of my feet.

I’m at the edge of the stage and I feel myself jumping, turning, all but flying, then a brief moment of falling until there are hands on my body, pushing and holding until I’m floating above them, face upturned to the ceiling that looks like a sky straight out of a painting, lit in varieties of blinding and dull colours; they dance in my eyes and so I close them, blissfully.

Hands on my back, on the undersides of my legs and arms and neck and head, in my hair, on my ass and I’m clutching my guitar to me, still playing it like I need this or I’ll die, still floating on top of the sea of people, _my fans,_ adoring and adored; and as I open my eyes and look up, there’s a security guy reaching out to me and then Kyo, also holding his hand out and I extend mine as well, forsake playing my instrument to do so, my pick slipping from my fingers and then I’m grasped and pulled out of this living, breathing ocean and helped back up onto the stage. The song ends in that same moment and I hold up my guitar as the crowd cheers and the lights come on a little brighter and then my gaze meets Kaoru’s and it all starts up again.

The excitement is back, boiling my blood, the rush taking me over, or trying to, because I’m exhausted, so very, very on the last edge of my strength; I clutch my guitar in my lap as I fall to my knees. I breathe heavily and lean backwards, my hair tickling my ankles and undoubtedly sweeping the stage, and I think to myself that I’ll have to wash it extra thoroughly tonight when there’s suddenly a hand brushing my forehead. I blink, look up, take the bottle of water Toshiya is holding out to me and I grin at him and he winks and turns around, holding up his bass like a trophy, showing it off to the crowd like a proud father would his darling child, only less careful, but with equal measures of love. He walks along the edge of the stage, passes by Kaoru who’s parading his guitar around and Kyo who’s spitting water onto the front rows, and then Shinya comes from behind his kit, stands next to me, helps me up and I hug him for a moment, before letting him go so he can distribute some of his drum sticks to the crowd.

On shaking legs, I walk along the edge of the stage as I show off my red guitar to the fans, then hand it over to my roadie. Toshiya and I throw out picks together, about halfway through we’re swapping them so I’m tossing his and he mine, and Kaoru is next to me, also distributing picks, kissing each and every single one before he sends it off to one of our fans and we grin at each other in passing and the rush, the rush, the rush grips me and I want to grab him and kiss him hard and, _god,_ fuck him, right there on the stage, I don’t even care if it’s in front of everyone, and he looks at me like he knows, his eyes saying something they’ve said to me a billion and one times before. _Come and get me._

And this time, for the first time, I know that I will. All along I’ve been his. It’s high time I made him mine.


End file.
